


Trancendentally Untranslatable

by spyrograph



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Communication Failure, Cultural Differences, Gen, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 15:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14452428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyrograph/pseuds/spyrograph
Summary: Four months into his six-month sentence, Garak faked a stomach ailment and refused to let anyone examine him except Bashir. The doctor was not pleased by the deception.“I have [empty] to say to you, Garak.”“Just one word, doctor. That’s all I ask.”“One word.”“[DECLARATIVE, FUTURE INDEFINITE, sacrifice]“ Garak said, knowing that it would not translate properly.





	Trancendentally Untranslatable

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Tumblr conversation about Universal Translaters and how hand-wavy they are in cannon. I’ve written some gratuitous Garashir centered around the fact that ideas like “honor” and “death” are so wrapped up in cultural context that understanding how someone actually feels about something as abstract as “love” is impossible without that context. Also, I really regret the fact that English doesn’t have a proper future tense.

_“They’re dead. You’re dead. Cardassia is dead. Your people [REFLEXIVE PAST TENSE, destroy] the moment they attacked us.”_

_Garak knew he had no choice and the agony was more exquisite than any he had ever experienced._

***

“What are you writing?” Garak tried and failed to conceal his displeasure at Julian’s preoccupation. Bashir was fiddling with the stylus, weaving it through his long fingers with striking dexterity, lost in contemplation of whatever it was he was working on. Clearly he felt it was more important than enjoying lunch; he had consumed his food with more speed than usual. Worse, he hadn’t even mentioned the book he was supposed to have finished and Garak had been looking forward to Bashir’s contrary opinions.

“I’m just [continuing] my [epistles]. It won’t [remove] a moment.”  

Sometimes Garak wondered if Julian understood the limitations of the universal translator. It often seemed as though he believed it could directly communicate his thoughts. “The nature of the writing still eludes me.”

“Ah, they’re- It’s a [small] [related to mortality], really. It’s something of a tradition that started with Earth’s early cosmonauts. They’re [epistles] for my [associates] and family in case I… don’t come back.”

“How  _diligent_  of you, to leave a written record of all your relationships for the unscrupulous to make use of in your absence.”

The doctor shook his head, apparently too distracted to appreciate a good ribbing about cultural differences. Garak leaned across the table and ran a finger across the top of the pad; smiled with satisfaction as Bashir’s eyes were drawn to it, “Is there a letter addressed to me?”

Bashir’s expression was strange, and his reply  “[SOFT affirmative] there is.” was exactly the opposite of the spluttering denial that Garak had expected.

Bashir was indeed, in a very odd frame of mind. Somber wasn’t something that Garak had ever associated with his young friend, and Bashir’s moodiness was uncharted territory, a facet of the doctor’s personality that Garak had not yet explored. It intrigued him.

“Well, if your taste in literature is any indication of your skill with the written word then I hope I never get the opportunity to read it.”

“I’d prefer it if you did.”

“My dear doctor! Fatalism is really not your color!”

Bashir’s smile was inscrutable.  He said a word which the universal translator really couldn’t parse.  It had the air of a confession.

“[you bury me]”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

***

_It was a sentiment that he hadn’t been able to understand until that moment. His fingers tangled in wires, he remembered that strange conversation, it felt like decades ago, (had it really only been years?). After all of the doctor’s subsequent attempts to find some similar sentiment in Cardassian literature, Garak finally grasped the meaning of that single word._

_Oh, how terribly beautiful, that Julian Bashir would get his wish!_

_When he had finished rerouting the weapons’ control systems of the_ Defiant _he would have to arm the photon torpedoes, one by one. Tedious work, but there wasn’t another way to do it from here._

***  
“[you bury me]”

Julian said the word again as though repeating it might make it’s meaning miraculously apparent. “It’s not a concept that translates into Federation standard. I had [thought unlikely] that there was an equivalent word in Cardassi. It [coincides] with a lot of the themes in Cardassian literature.”

Julian couldn’t be persuaded to elaborate.

And since Julian had become uncharacteristically evasive Garak could only glean it’s meaning from context. They were discussing the sentiments Julian wished to convey to his loved ones in the event of his death. So, this word, [you bury me], was likely a summation of those sentiments.

He’d known then, of course, that the sentiment had been meant for him specifically. Bashir’s body language had said more than enough. His hands alone spoke volumes- he always kept them still when he was saying something he believed was truly important.

_***  
Bashir had been very professional, every inch the Federation doctor, while he repaired the damage Worf had inflicted. Really, Garak had been lucky. One of the broken ribs had nearly impaled an important digestive organ.  _

_The doctor hadn’t said a word on the journey back to Deep Space Nine. His hands were deathly still._

***

Four months into his six-month sentence, Garak faked a stomach ailment and refused to let anyone examine him except Bashir. The doctor was not pleased by the deception.

“I have [empty] to say to you, Garak.”

“Just one word, doctor. That’s all I ask.”

“One word.”

“[DECLARATIVE, FUTURE INDEFINITE, sacrifice]“ Garak said, knowing that it would not translate properly.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“I’ve had a great deal of time to think,” of course he had. He’d had nothing but time and his thoughts, and his thoughts had kept returning to the indecipherable expression on Bashir’s face when Worf had explained exactly why he had pummeled Garak so thoroughly,  “I have realized, that one of the many reasons you did not feel moved by The Neverending Sacrifice was simply a matter of poor interpretation.”

Bashir sat down, cross-legged on the floor, elbow on his knee, chin in his hand. It was an absurd position and Garak could not imagine how that was comfortable. “Do go on,” He was a picture of feigned patience; curiosity thinly veiled by anger.

“The word ‘sacrifice’ is simply not adequate. Self-sacrifice comes a bit closer but… To a Cardassian there is only one kind of sacrifice and everything else is [duty to family] or [duty to the state]. Sacrifice is the agony of choosing one’s [duty] over one’s happiness.  A true sacrifice is nearly synonymous with self-immolation. It is agony willingly experienced with the knowledge that the other person will understand why you have [destroyed] them. “

As he spoke, Garak could see all the little shifts in expression that told him that Bashir was thinking very deeply; the crease in his brow, the press of his lips, the tapping of his fingers. Garak thought of it as Bashir’s “doctor face” and imagined that it was the expression he used when informing someone of their imminent death.

“[At the first level], you’re saying that you were willing to kill me [in the process of] committing [extinction] because it’s the Cardassian thing to do.”

“That is not the entirety of it-“

“That twisted bit of [opposite-meaning] is the most [romantic] notion you can comprehend? And you expect me to forgive you because this is all just some cultural [quarrel]!”

“I would never ask for your forgiveness.” Garak snapped, “Because I don’t see that there’s anything to forgive.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

“Because I need you to understand! Because I _thought you understood_! When I chose to destroy the Founders, knowing that you would be the first to die… I was glad that I would not survive you by much. What _was_ that word you used, while you were being maudlin over your funerary letters, the one that didn’t translate? [you bury me].”

Julian scoffed; A broken-throated sound unlike anything Garak had never heard a Julian make. It was terrifying, “Now _that is_ a [quarrel]!”

“Then, please, correct me!”

“It means… I hope to die first so I would not have to experience life without you.”

“How very selfish of you.” how ionic that Garak had intended to do just that and Bashir begrudged it, “Do you still feel that way?”

“That was before you-“

“Oh! So your affection is dependent upon circumstance, is it? How _convenient_ for you! How marvelous it must be to have such _malleable_ sentiments!” Garak was standing too close to the force field, it hummed an angry warning.

Sudden understanding reconfigured Bashir’s face entirely.

“Garak. Does [DECLARATIVE, FUTURE INDEFINITE, sacrifice] mean _I love you_?”

“ _I love you_?” Garak laughed, and he wanted it to sound cruel but the flood of relief he felt could not be held back, “Is there a statement of affection more vague? My dear doctor, [DECLARATIVE, FUTURE INDEFINITE, sacrifice] is the greatest commitment a Cardassian can give to an individual.”

The silence was interminable. When Bashir spoke again it was nearly whisper.

“I have a lot to think about, Garak.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“I’ll… I’ll come visit you tomorrow, if you’d like?”

“I would like that very much.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The word Julian says is يقبرني - ya’aburnee. I hope I’ve accurately conveyed it’s meaning. 
> 
> I deliberately avoided making up an actual word for the Cardassian "[DECLARATIVE, FUTURE INDEFINITE, sacrifice]" because as far as I can tell there isn't any cannon relating to spoken Cardassian language and I don't feel comfortable keyboard mashing a bunch of susurrus sounds and calling it a day. Also: I'm exactly the kind of nerd who would attempt to construct an entire alien language for a single fic and that's just ridiculous.


End file.
